


Cold Blooded

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ? - Freeform, AU, Abuse, Angst, Assisted Suicide, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fanfic, Highschool AU, Homophobic Language, Homophobics, I should be doing homework, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Not completed, Oops, Self-Harm, Smut (maybe), Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Ugh, god damn, highschool, idk., oh no, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blood is a tear cascading down your flesh. I will catch each drop, and lull the pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Blooded

**Chapter 1**

 

Castiel Novak is secluded from the population. By choice, certainly. People,  _human_ _interaction_. He despises it.

Castiel was not always like this. In truth, he had used to be close to something of a much more social person. Or at least made an attempt to relate with other  _walking sacks of skin._ The young, azure eyed boy had been intelligent. Bright. He would involve himself with the company of others, make  _friends_. 

But that was then.

And this is now.

Castiel undisputably could not give two shits about another living species, such as himself. His grades had plummeted notoriously since junior year. He had given up and given in to the life that would most certainly destroy him; Castiel hoped it would be sooner, rather than later. To his dismay, sooner wouldn't be coming.

Now, here he sat, scribbling away into his notebook. Castiel had already tuned out the drawl lecture that the professor had been trying to drill into his brain. All that mattered was how the shading on the left wing wasn't quite right, and the beak of the sparrow seemed too lengthy. He bit his lip in frustration, furiously erasing the sketch. His period of ignoring the world was interrupted, when a sharp jab from the back of his head sent jolts through his nervous system. He cringed, and slowly turned around to send an icy glare at the student who had disturbed his peace.

To no surprise, Meg Masters was giggling away with the group of walking dicks that she called "friends". This included Alistair Fallastien, Crowley MacLeod, and Ruby Cortese. There were more, but these classroom 'bullys' were the main members of her clique. Meg, or Megan, was a short, jet-black haired girl. On the surface, she appeared as a harmless creature; Castiel knew who she really was. Deep down, Meg Masters was a cold hearted demon bitch who would trample anyone who stood in her way, including those she called "friends". This went the same for just about anyone in the group, except for maybe Ruby. When the "demon" clique went around terrorizing the weaklings of the school, she always made sure to hang back and leave her self out of it.

Castiel, unfortunately, was a main victim of Meg's group and her path of utter destruction. Ever since they had discovered how Castiel really worked, they made it quite clear that they were going to make every second of high school a living hell. He was different from other students. There were many like him, just not at his school. _  
_

Castiel was a homosexual; he was alone.

Out of the some 500 students that attended Truman High School, he was the only kid of the male specious that showed an interest in other guys. Apparently, this wasn't an 'okay' thing. Castiel was beaten, teased, shouted at, and some students even went as far as to spray paint "faggot" onto his locker. If any one felt even a pang of sympathy for him, it wasn't known. 

It was during the time that Castiel had been glaring at Meg, that the professor decided to speak towards him.

Except, she had already been speaking towards Castiel while he was focused on other things,

"Mr. Novak, so nice of you to join us again."

Castiel grunted,

"Number 12 in your book, please."

"My apologies, Professor Carlson, but I don't have my book with me." Castiel forced a simpered smile, no teeth.

 She nodded her head, as if she had expected the answer she was given,

"Well then, it looks like you'll be joining us in detention as well." she returned the sarcastic smile, and moved her attention towards another student. Mrs. Carlson didn't necessarily hate Castiel for what he was. She wasn't that kind of person. She merely just disproved of his behavior in class, and quite frankly expected more of him; towards the end of the first semester, she kind of stopped caring.

The bell for passing period rang. Castiel gathered his things and slumped out the door. He kept his head down, and tried to ignore the sneers and scoffs of the members from Meg's group,

"God damn  _faggot."_ Alistair hissed.

"Just kill yourself already, Novak."Crowley said with a disgusted twist to his face.

"Guys, guys." Meg waved her hands, "that's no way to treat a fellow classmate." An unsettling smile formed on her lips,

"We're sorry, Castiel. I mean, it's not _your_ fault your like this." she sneered.

He kept his head down and made his way to his locker. By now, the hallways were nearly empty.

"Maybe we can beat it out of him." Alistair suggested,

"I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone-" 

"Oh, shut the fuck up, faggot!" Crowley grabbed the back collar of his shirt, shoving him face first into the peeling paint of the locker. Castiel's books tumbled out of his hands. Alistair helped turn Castiel towards them both, and pushed down on his shoulders, causing him to collide with the lockers once more. He held on, and Crowley threw several punches, connecting with his jaw.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and with stood the pain. It felt as if his face were being torn apart, as if his jawbone had been smashed repeatedly by the end of a hammer. Which, of course, it was.. in a way.

The bell for third period rang.

Alistair sent a few bruising knees to his stomach, and Castiel doubled over in pain. He began to cough up red fluid all over the floor. His face was dripping with blood, a few cuts on the left side of his cheek. Castiel could taste the sickly copper on his tongue and gagged,

"God fuckin- My shoes!" Crowley spat, "you got blood all over my brand new fucking Jordan's."  He grabbed Castiel and shoved him up against the locker, ready to throw another bone splitting punch before he came to a halt,

"That's enough, boys." Meg's voice drifted in the air, but Castiel could barely hear it. His vision was fading in and out as he slumped to the chilling, tiled floor, "Come on, we're going to be late." 

He heard footsteps, and then the empty echo of the school corridor.

Castiel coughed a couple times, more blood came spilling out into his hands.

_Does anyone even know I'm out here?_

He looked up and around, pathetically. He saw no one. The late bell for third period rang through out the halls.

 

It was a terrible thing to do. It was sad. Not sad the way that pulls on your heart strings. It was sad, as in something that was just plain wrong.

There Castiel was, mopping up his own  _god damn blood._ It seemed that no one else knew of the incident that happened just minutes before. That is, except for the "demon" clique. 

He had gone to the bathroom to clean up, try to get the stains out of his shirt.

Why didn't he just ask for help? Go to a teacher, the nurse, even?

Because of course, doing that would only make it worse. He couldn't come off as weak. That was undoubtedly out of the question. Emitting a weak vibe would make you a vast target. 

And as he sat there, wiping up the fluid with a wet paper towel, Castiel cried.

For the first time in weeks, he let his feelings out. And where better to do it than the fucking school hallways.

He cried because he was alone, because he was in pain. It was emotional and physical. No human being should be alone. It's apart of their nature to have interaction with others. Castiel tried to tell himself that it was because he hated everyone, but in truth, everyone hated him. He had no shoulder to cry on. No one to wipe his tears. Not even his own stuck up family was there for him.

It was a ponderous planet, and Castiel was forsaken.

He knelt, he let tears blend with blood. Somewhere during that time, Castiel mustered up the strength to finish the job and get to class. He pulled his hood over his head to hide the puffiness.

Castiel was already absent for fraction of the class. It was English, something he was good at. He couldn't have missed much. 

He pushed the door open and awkwardly fumbled to his seat. A few whispers and stares floated around the room,

_'Why is he late?'_

_'What happened to his face?'_

_'Is he.. crying?'_

Castiel ignored all of them,

"Do you have a pass?" the teacher grunted, obviously caring less about whether Castiel held the yellow slip or not,

"E-excuse me?" 

"A pass. Do you have one?" He spoke more clearly this time,

"No, sir."

The teacher let out a suspected, "hmph" and continued his lesson on  _The Tell-Tale Heart._ Everything was drawn out into a drawl, and Castiel could feel himself tipping over into slumber, until a slight knocking distrupted the class period. The secretary poked her head in,

"Mr. Mackey, you have a new student." she whispered, almost apologetically for interrupting an obviously "exciting" lesson,

"Bring him in." Was all he said.

Immediately, it was as if a light had been flicked on. As soon as the new student walked in, people were sitting up straighter, looking more interested. Some were leaning to catch a glimpse.

The kid who walked in was dressed in conventional attire. He wore a faded green jacket, that layered over a black t-shirt. HIs jeans were slightly torn, but nothing out of the usual. The student's hair was a sandy shade of brown, and his eyes contrasted greatly. The eyes were what caught Castiel's attention. With in the shimmering orbs was a garden. Verdant, bright, and full of life. Just calling them green would be an insult. His cheeks were sprinkled with what looked like cinnamon, but had turned out to be light brown freckles. Whoever he was, he was beautiful.

And Castiel could care less. Sure, he was a great looking guy, but Castiel wasn't attracted to utter douche-bags.

He dropped his head onto his desk and groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I added things in too fast, but I'll go back and edit it later. I am seriously sleep deprived right now. I'm also not sure if I'll continue this story, or give up on it like I have with others in the past. I guess I'll just see how it goes.


End file.
